"Not spying, just... concerned. That's all."
Peter was less than impressed. Not for the first time this evening, an awkward silence developed, broken only by the sound of the occasional gear change. Tank pulled up outside Peter's house after only a few minutes, preventing Peter from getting any wetter, saving him over half an hour's walk.
"Thanks," said Peter, grumpily.
"You're welcome," replied Tank, switching off the car's engine.
Both friends just smiled at each other.
"Well," asked Tank. "How was it?"
Peter held his head in his hands, something that deep inside, delighted his friend. However, he'd yet to hear the full story.
"I'm really sorry, and I'm sure this is probably the last thing you want to hear, but it was... fantastic, amazing, just... brilliant."
Tank banged his head on the steering wheel in frustration.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing? You and Richie are going to get into soooooo much trouble... really."
Peter leant back in the passenger seat and let out a big sigh.
"It was like nothing I've ever experienced in my life," he told his friend. "Imagine the first time you took flight. It's the most magical thing in the world, isn't it? Warm air caressing every scale, the wind rushing around your legs, over your wings, along the tip of your tail, nothing binding you to the ground, total and utter freedom. Imagine that, only... more powerful, more intense. I can't believe I'm saying any of this."
Tank playfully punched Peter in the shoulder.
"Don't worry, I'll come and visit you both regularly when the King's Guard lock you and Richie up in the dungeons beneath the council building."
Peter smiled, glad his friend could joke about such a serious situation.
"Promise?"
"I'll even bring along some of those delicious charcoal fajitas that you love so much."
"Great," replied Peter, his thoughts turning to food.
"And let you smell them through the bars in the cell door before I wolf them down," declared Tank, starting to laugh. Peter joined in.
"You have a knack for bringing me back to reality with a sharp bump."
"Somebody's got to. Seriously though, Pete, be careful. Those rules were made for a reason. Also, it's one thing Richie doing it - she seems to have an inexhaustible supply of luck when it comes to anything that could go wrong. You, on the other hand, perhaps not so much."
"Thanks bud," said Peter patting his friend firmly on the shoulder, "for the lift and the chat. I look forward to those fajitas. See you tomorrow at the sports club."
Getting out, he slammed the door shut. Both friends waved to each other as Tank disappeared off into the cold, drizzly night.
Peter went to bed contented, his dreams a confusing mix of ancient dragons making complex decisions and a blonde haired goddess professing her love for him.
7
A Few Kangaroos Loose in the Top Paddock
Forehead burning like the raging sun itself, sweat trickled down his neck, onto his chest, dribbling down his side, soaking his clothes. Aware of all of these little things, he couldn't seem to focus on the much bigger picture, no matter how hard he tried. Suspecting he was still on the plane, if it even was a plane, it may have already landed, but he thought he would have felt it touchdown and to his knowledge, he hadn't. White hot pain in his back sizzled through him regularly now, forcing him to cry out and squeal like a pig trying to avoid the bacon slicer, before unconsciousness washed over him. On occasions, the same two faces would swim into view, whispering kind words of encouragement, words that, no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't seem to hear over the ringing in his ears. From all this he knew that he was in a bad shape.
After blacking out at least twice more, Flash awoke to find that something was clearly going on. He'd been strapped down to whatever was holding him, and just out of the corner of both eyes he could see the two people looking after him, both seated, which he couldn't remember happening before. The ceiling of what he assumed was an aeroplane swam in and out of view, making him think that they might be coming in for a landing.
'If that's the case, then we should be somewhere with access to the dragon domain and the monorail,' he thought drowsily. His hopes were confirmed moments later as the sharp bump of the plane touching down vibrated throughout his whole body. As the plane taxied to the end of the runway, he knew he had to shake off the effects of the poison the naga had inflicted upon him and work out a way to escape back to the underground world. At least there he could be cured of his affliction and warn the king about everything he'd discovered.
Feeling the plane come to a halt, one of the doors opened immediately, letting brilliant sunshine spill in. Lying back, he tried desperately to access the magic dormant within him and listen to the muted conversation that was going on only a few feet away. Try as he might, he wasn't even close to being able to access any of his abilities. The best he could come up with in his fevered state was that the poison seemed to be affecting him on a sub atomic level. Something he hadn't noticed before, but was quite obvious to him now, was the fact that his magical energy reserves were not recharging, which was a worry given his current state. Normally, when a dragon isn't using their magic, or using just a little, the supply would automatically recharge until it reached the maximum capacity that particular being could hold, something unique to each individual dragon. Different dragons have different magical energy capacities, as well as needing to use different amounts of energy to cast the same mantras. Dragons such as Flash had been honed and trained rigorously to enable their bodies to have an even bigger magical energy capacity than most normal dragons, as well as having the fastest recharge rate possible. For his body not to be recharging at all, something had to be seriously wrong. It could only be that the energy that should be recharging was instead warding off the effects of the naga poison. If that were the case, then he was in even graver danger than he'd first thought. He needed to get to a dragon healer and fast. The only problem now were the humans who, at this very moment, were carrying him out of the plane on a stretcher, with a view to operating on his very bad, very superficial, and very self inflicted frostbite.
A nurse carried a drip over him as she ran alongside the fast moving stretcher. Focusing all his concentration, he managed to sweep aside some of the fog that had clouded his brain. Lifting his head a fraction, he could see an ambulance, back doors splayed wide open. Three people climbed in beside him. A very kind nurse mopped his fevered brow, for which he was unbelievably grateful. Only a small kindness, but given exactly how hot he felt, just a moment's relief felt like a lottery win.
Shortly, the ambulance arrived at its destination, with Flash quickly being taken to the emergency room. Hushed conversations nearby sounded urgent, despite the fact that no details could be heard. All of a sudden, a different nurse appeared over him.
"Don't worry son, the doctors are on their way. They're some of the best in the country, and when they get here, I'm sure they'll give it heaps."
Through the fog clouding his mind he started to become concerned, not at the thought of them operating on the frostbite; the mantra itself, he knew, would have created near perfect replicas of frostbitten human fingers. Even if the doctors amputated his fingers, they wouldn't find anything unusual that would lead them to suspect that he wasn't really human. His big worry was that they would use a powerful anaesthetic, one that would only hinder his body's fight with the naga poison, a fight that wasn't going too well at the moment. Bringing his right hand up, he tried to catch the attention of the two nurses standing in the corner. Eventually, one of them came over.